Domino Effect
by SoDunne
Summary: In the aftermath of Rome, Mitch Rapp is thrown from one operation to another. Stan Hurley is still recovering. Deputy Director Irene Kennedy is a proven leader. And Annika Ogden is back. Or the one where I find a way to keep my favorite female character from the movie on team Orion.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:**_ _ **Considering this fandom is**_ _ **new**_ _ **, I'm okay with the idea that I'm talking mostly to myself right now. I'm writing this for just one person —myself, but hopefully more than that soon—but that's fine too. Hopefully someone else is here, and enjoys what I'm posting.**_

 _ **I watched the movie for the first time this past weekend and I enjoyed it — I thought Dylan did a great job. But I loved Shiva as Annika as well and I thought her death was unnecessary. So this fic is just me writing a "What If?" she'd survived. I thought there was a chance to write an interesting dynamic between the two characters, one that could have been built upon. So I'm doing it**_

* * *

Many moments in Mitch Rapp's life had always felt very, _normal_. He tried not to think about that life, especially now, heading back to the states after finishing his task in Dubai. He shook off the tension that had built in the last two years, coughed inconspicuously and let it go.

A young woman greeted him as he got off the plane, a barely there nod of acknowledgement was all she got; accompanied by a stony forward glare.

Mitch was quiet on the way to Langley. The last time he'd been there, he couldn't remember fondly. Much to his own chagrin at the time, his life was changed. He'd hardened himself to the time he'd spent honing his skills. Irene and Stan would take the credit in front of the big wigs but they all knew Mitch was in his position based on his determination and inability to let the past go. It's a terrible trait, but a trait he's molded for his own benefit nonetheless.

He remembered Ghost — Ronnie— well. He thought the face would disappear, he'd hoped that knowing Stan had trained the man would fade from memory. But he couldn't let it go. There was something in the Ghost's life that turned the marine's moral code sour and stole his honor. Mitch tried his best to see him like all the other terrorists, without lives, without any justifiable reason for what they do. But he internally acknowledged that his own ignorance had led him to believe no terrorist had been home grown. That was his mistake.

The ride up to the Deputy Director's office was quiet and tense, Mitch kept his mouth shut the moment a large agent entered the lift. He supposed he was being escorted and the minute he'd need to use his voice he'd find it.

Sitting in the solid chair in front of Irene's desk, he looked around. He noted that there are no personal effects, the space was cold and dark at the same time. From what he knew of her, the older woman was smart and calm. He assumed that she's had to work harder than her male counterparts and her seriousness was a reflection of the need for her to be taken with all seriousness and respect. He still held a bitter feeling with how willing she was to let Ghost do what he pleased with Hurley. He did his best to keep the feeling at bay, considering nuclear weapons were at play — which, by all accounts, were still missing.

"Comfy?" Her voice entered the room before she did. He didn't stand like he was supposed to. She's said it herself, he's not military or an academy graduate.

"I am." Mitch nodded, hunched forward as she sat across from him.

"Dubai went well?" She asked, a quirk to her lips.

"I was on vacation." He shrugged back. While that had been true, coincidentally, the Iranian faction candidate that had been running for the presidential election wound up dead. The weapons weren't in their hands, but they certainly weren't acquired. Mitch made a judgment call, they weren't going to give him the information he'd needed. One threat eliminated.

Irene folded her hands beneath her chin, hand stretching in exasperation for a quick second before all she did was look at him. With a sigh, seeing that he was going to force her hand, she relented. "Fine." He wanted the argument, clearly. "You were reckless, and you could have gotten yourself killed."

"We talking about Istanbul, Rome, or Dubai?." Mitch asked. "I made all the calls I was supposed to make. I did my job." They both knew he was right. "You cleaned up just fine." The point still stood that she didn't want _clean up_ to be necessary.

"Your job?" Irene Kennedy prided herself on being a composed woman, so it didn't take much for her to school her expression and tone, but he was going to push her into a tirade if he kept up his blasé attitude. "You work for _me._ If it weren't for me, you be sitting in a su-"

"Supermax prison. I know. You've said it before. When we met, I think."

"Look…" she sighed, pressing her fingers into her temples. "I know you've been through a lot. But guess what? We all have our shit. And the only way you're staying out of prison is if you play by my rules. So fix your attitude and shut up."

Mitch gritted his teeth. He was tired of the same conversation he'd seemed stuck hearing. He knew he didn't follow all the rules, according to said regulations and procedures, he should have just let Ghost kill Stan for revenge but the young, vengeful man couldn't and so he didn't. And he'd finished the job in Dubai. He'd done what needed to be done. He wasn't even CIA officially.

A chuckle escaped Irene's plum painted lips. She was reminded why she'd chosen him to be her newest asset. He was unrelenting and unafraid. But he needed to learn how to be a team player — or at least respect the laws of the organization. She couldn't have a black ops operative running off half cocked whenever he heard someone was doing something that reminded him of that fateful day on the beach — and could wait for direction. Stan was recovering, just recently cleared for indirect instruction of the next class of Orion candidates. The team was still a person shy of complete since Victor was killed. Mitch had been sent off to Istanbul with the team when stakes had been high and they couldn't focus on his glaring propensity to make his own rules as he went.

"You really made a mess of things." She commented, folding her arms across her chest.

"You fixed it right up." Mitch lifted and dropped a shoulder, running a hand over his growing stubble.

"I did. You can make up for the extra work you made me do by explaining to me why you thought it was appropriate to drive a car into two mossad agents —" she paused, glaring at him the moment he looked to be formulating a premature response, "Not only did you do that, you took the woman in transfer, to help with your rescue mission."

"They killed her handler." _Her uncle_ followed in his head. "She was close to it and I couldn't do it on my own— why are we talking about this? It's all in my report."

"I want to hear it in your words." She explained. They needed to talk about everything that had happened. She wasn't one to let the past be the past until she was satisfied with the reasoning. Orion was her task force and when he'd made a mess, she had been the one to explain it. "You could have gotten her killed and that may be of no consequence to you, but you wouldn't have had to explain to Iranian officials how their asset was killed when she _should_ have been on the way home..."

Mitch kept his expression flat, but he knew regret flickered in his eyes. When the director saw it, she sat back slightly. "It was a risk… I know that." He swallowed, seeing the situation unfold in his head, Ghost holding her at gunpoint. What she said just before he put a bullet into the ex-naval SEAL and Orion operative's thigh and she wrestled the gun from his hand. "We handled it."

"And Dubai, you just happened to be vacationing there the same time as the next Iranian President had been?" Irene asked.

"Ya-huh." Mitch nodded, exhaling as he nodded his head. It was a lie, he'd been there for work, Annika extending the information to him when she'd heard where the man was headed. He was in cahoots with the group intending to end the JCPOA, which would have undoubtedly ended up in a war they didn't need. "Good thing too… that could have ended in disaster."

"Was that a joke?" She quirked her brow, staring at him. She held up her hand, halting him before he could speak. She pressed her palms to her face in exasperation.

"I know you didn't call me here just to go over this." Mitch was far from stupid and he knew good and well that the conversation was not her endgame. There was more to it than a rehashing of his reckless but effective tactics. "So what's the deal… is it Hurley? He's okay, right? Recovering okay?"

"He's fine. It's not about him." Irene cut in before he could continue. She hadn't realized that Mitch had grown accustomed to knowing Stan would be around until Rome. And it struck her again in that moment. "I have a job for you that will require some leg work. But you're ready for it. Nothing you wouldn't wind up involved in anyway."

"What is it?"

There was a knock on the glass of her office. A man in a dark suit stuck his head in. "They're ready for you Deputy Director."

Irene nodded and stood from the desk chair. She looked at Mitch, "Head to Hurley's, he'll explain and I'll be over when I'm done here."

Mitch's nod was minute and he stuck the tip of his thumb into his mouth pensively.

* * *

Stan Hurley was a man easily understood to Mitch. He was steady and never worked off the cuff. He was a military man through and through, someone who worked for the greater good and all that crap. He didn't look back when a job was finished and he never let anyone know when something touched him emotionally. So when Mitch walked through the front door of his home in Roanoke Valley, the young man was shocked to see the former SEAL standing in the center of the hallway waiting on him, smile etched on his aged face. The hug was quick, but the ruffling Stan did to his hair brought a small smile from Mitch.

"Kennedy told me you'd be back this morning." Stan offered, teetering his way to the familiar wooden dining table. He plopped into the single chair along the lengthy side.

"That was my fault, Sir. Wanted to make sure I was thorough." Mitch replied. They'd all known what could happen if something wasn't finished properly. Stan had drilled that into all recruits that day in the simulation. _The target you know isn't always the only one._

"Good. That's good." Stan nodded proudly, his lips quirking. He rubbed his knuckles under the table, something he'd taken to doing after the cast was removed from his arm. It went unsaid, but Hurley was proud of Mitch. Irene had said it from day one, the young man was the best they'd ever seen — made by his own stubbornness and refusal to let go of that day on the beach. "Tell me about Dubai."

"It was quick." Mitch responded smoothly, "I knew where they'd be and ended it there. Should we be talking about this?" He chuckled, crossing his arms.

"No." Stan shrugged. "You failed." He laughed outright. Mitch was certain that was the first time he'd heard the sound. But he couldn't say it was unwelcome. He hadn't always appreciated how hard it was to make the man smile. He wasn't even sure when he'd started wanting approval, much less from the old man who'd hated him from the beginning.

Mitch snorted, brushing his hair from his eyes. He'd cut it to blend in as an American tourist, shaved for the same reason. But he hadn't attempted to style it or remove his stubble since, and he was starting to look like himself again.

Irene came through the door first, and then Annika. A few analysts behind them.

"What is _she_ doing here?" Stan asked, and it was the first time Mitch had seen so much contempt on his face. The older man always managed to keep his argumentative ways under wraps when anyone but Irene would be seeing it.

"She's a part of Orion permanently." Irene kept her response short and the look on her face hard. Annika took up the wall just off to the side behind Mitch. She was itching to press her hand to Rapp's shoulder but kept her hands glued to her sides.

Annika Ogden had been a useful addition to the team in Istanbul. She had experience and she knew how to get in and get out of a situation without being seen. Going home for her had been difficult. And after tiring mental assessments, she was cleared for work. Her transfer to CIA was quick where Irene was concerned. Getting people to trust her again, that's what would take double the work.

The Iranian knew how people would look at her. But she couldn't let that concern her. She helped save the world. And if someone wanted to let her little deceptions — one's that every spy ever had told — get in the way, she didn't care. The radicals in her home country had taken everything from her. She refused to let some staring distract from the fact that she was still standing — even when Ghost had her in his vice grip in that dark tunnel she hadn't given up.

"Let's get this over with." Mitch muttered, resting his elbows on the table. Irene slapped 3 folders on the center. Stan was the first to survey one of the files, flipping through pictures, stopping on the familiar face of the man who'd tortured him.

"What is this?"

"Ghost isn't gone." Irene said, he tone eerie.

"What? I killed him." Mitch stared at her in disbelief. The bullet he'd put between the terrorist's eyes has been very real and Ronnie had been very dead.

"And he is dead. But he had help." Irene nodded, keeping her face relaxed. She was used to this, the questions. She liked to let it get out at the beginning. "We have reason to believe he has a contact here in the US."

Stan flipped through the pictures. He stopped on the grainy photo of a young woman. Her blonde hair peeked through the bottom of the hat she was wearing. The sleeves of her woven sweater covering her fingers. He'd never seen her before. She looked far too young to be a hardened killer but he knew that looks were nothing if not deceiving. "Michelle Howard."

"Georgetown School of Medicine." Mitch read aloud. He read in the file that the woman had spent most of her life in foster care. But she was incredibly bright and had proven so while in school but she disappeared a few years ago. She'd popped up again when she transferred to one of the top universities in the country. How that was done with no other conceivable information on her, they had no clue. But it clearly, could be done.

Nothing in here directly points to him." Stan said. He flicked a weary glare at Annika as she took a seat at the end of the table, but he looked back at the file he had in front of him.

"That didn't bother you before Istanbul." Irene commented without looking directly at him. There had been no concrete evidence that Ronnie had been the middle man between the Russians and the Iranians, but he was. "He managed to be completely under the radar for years. Him taking the time to manipulate a young woman is not far out of reach."

"We think she doesn't know anything? Or that she does?" Annika asked, her brows quirked as she posed mid turn of the page.

"Right now, we're unsure. I'd like to find out before she goes underground or ends up dead." Irene wasn't too keen on the admittance but it was all they had to go on. Part of intelligence was having a starting point and expanding. They needed to start somewhere. Her team was the only one the President was willing to extend at the moment.

"So what's the plan?" Mitch didn't want to delay if there was a chance that something could go wrong.

"You're going to find out what she knows, who she knows…if she's caught up in this mess, or if there's more to Ghost's plan that we didn't know about. This case is need to know only. As far as we're concerned, the only people who know are in this house. I will be your only contact here."

Technically, what they were doing could be considered illegal — spying on an American citizen — but it was a matter of national security. And if they weren't careful, the case would be handed over to FBI sooner than they could blink. At the moment, it appeared that Michelle had ties to a national terrorist, and that was keeping the case in the CIA's hands — even if Irene was the only one with the knowledge of what Orion was up to.

Someone like Ghost, with a vendetta against their team, and the government's military parties, thinking that he would focus an attack on the naval fleet alone was almost grossly irresponsible. Anyone worth their salt would consider all the possibilities. Mitch himself wasn't at all concerned with the civil rights arguments. Istanbul was obviously connected to Rome, and then the aftermath connected to Dubai. There was a domino affect, and comically, it was Ronnie's ghost seemingly haunting the following events. For all intents and purposes, his goal had been met. They would have to think of him going forward.

* * *

Annika slipped into the seat beside Mitch on the couch as Irene and Stan debated the smaller details of the mission. She kept her eyes forward as she tried to pick up any hints that Mitch didn't want her around. It felt similar to that night in the hotel room. He didn't say anything for a long while, not until he looked at her.

"Why are you back?" He asked, his hands supporting the weight of his chin, his thumbs pressing into the soft spot and his fingers extending up to his nose.

So she was right to assume that he wouldn't be overjoyed to see her. From what she'd known of him, he was never overjoyed or even happy — not at this point in his life.

"My life in Turkey was a mission — it wasn't real — and there's nothing for me in Iran." She admitted it easily, no tears came to her eyes and she didn't feel like a lump had formed in her throat. She'd accepted the truth a while back. She'd spent five years in Turkey working, collecting all the intel she'd needed on the people involved in the shady goings-on no one outright addressed in everyday life.

He took the time to process and sat back. He didn't say anything.

"I know you don't trust me." Annika admitted so much to herself as she was being walked out of the safe house in Rome. But seeing the same indifference he looked at her then, now, after everything that had transpired, she felt hollow. He'd saved her life, she'd relayed information to him. Those things felt important and suddenly she couldn't understand why she'd allowed that. But since they'd met, she'd only ever shared with him — not that it was all that much, but still —not the other way around. She didn't know anything about him personally.

"You're a liar." Mitch said clearly. She clinched her jaw and didn't say anything to the contrary. He watched her for any sort of reaction to his callousness but she was resigned to the fact that he was angry. "Why does it matter what I think anyway? You were doing what you were doing long before I was around."

And that struck her harder than it should have. She had no idea why. Maybe because he was more human than anyone she'd encountered in recent years. She felt the emotions radiating off of him. Instead of hiding from them, he let those emotions show. He didn't put them in a box. He was angry. And that anger fueled his motivations to rid the world of terrorists and people who killed innocents for no reason at all. He was clear headed when he needed to be but when that was over, he was broken and he didn't pretend that he wasn't.

"I was doing my job."

"Everyone's always _just_ doing their job Annika." Mitch shrugged. He looked over at her, biting his bottom lip as he thought of what else to say. "I appreciate the help you gave me back in Rome. You didn't have to. And I killed Ghost."

"You saved my life."

"You would have done the same." He replied without missing a beat. He had no reason to believe that and she knew that deep down, because of that, he had to know how much those words would affect her. "If he was holding the gun to my head, you would have done the same thing I did."

They worked those operations for Orion together with Hurley, it was the whole reason he couldn't let Ronnie torture Stan and get away. And why he couldn't let Annika be taken away, never to be seen again. That didn't mean the lies weren't going to affect how close he'd let her get. He'd let his guard down — and it had been easy — and he can't understand why. That didn't mean he'd find out.

"And the tip in Dubai, I don't know how you knew and I don't want to know." He went on, looking at a spot on the wall and not on her. "Thank you. But…" he shrugged. "I don't know what else I'm supposed to say."

"Then you aren't supposed to say anything else at all." Annika sighed, folding her hands in her lap. "I just want us to be able to work together." Her accent laced her voice — still soothing, and smooth.

He chewed the inside of his cheek. "Fine."


	2. Chapter 2

Annika trained her eye on the target in the shooting range, taking a breath as she pulled the trigger. There was something about being in the range by herself that cleared her head. She didn't have to think, or feel, it was her and the target.

 _Bang. Three in a row, clean._

Since she'd been handed her CIA credentials and her gun back, she felt renewed but like herself. She'd thought of quitting, taking the opportunity to just live out the rest of her life, but she'd never be happy knowing that she'd quit. Instead, Annika and Mitch had spent some time running those familiar simulation sting operations with Stan (Rapp had since killed two potential additions to the team and Irene and Stan were quietly unfazed by it) or sparring and putting those combat skills to use. That did wonders for the tension building in her system from being idle, she didn't get the same fulfillment out of a drill.

With all her family dead, or no longer speaking to her, all she had left was the job. It was probably unhealthy, and she'd surely need to find other things to fulfill her. But she just wanted to get back out in the field.

 _Bang_. She dropped the weapon marginally, staring just over the line of the barrel.

When Kennedy called her with the proposal that she joined the team — as a permanent fixture — she'd taken more time than necessary to respond. The idea was daunting. She knew that Hurley would have his reservations, as well as Mitch. The help she'd given them meant nothing once her connections to Iranian intelligence came to light. Stan was big on knowing all the details of the men — and women — he was trusting to do what needed to be done on operations. Irene wasn't an emotional woman, and Annika had concluded that the woman at the forefront of the task force saw her as a valuable piece to place in play. After all, Annika knew she'd done good work for the CIA while she was in Turkey. They wouldn't have found the arms dealer as quickly as they had if they'd sent anyone else. The agent blended into the crowd, people weren't given pause at the sight of her. So she said yes.

She knew coming back would be a feat of its own. And so far, that assumption had been right. She was given second glances in passing. News traveled in the CIA just as it would anywhere else, she discovered. And it wasn't long before it was difficult not to notice the chill of feeling eyes watching her. In her new apartment, she could hide away from it.

The day was over, dragging it out much longer for the sake of hiding from that reality… that did nothing. Annika pulled her hair out of her face, raked her fingers through the strands framing her face and grabbed her bag.

Walking down the hallway, heading toward the door to call it a day, Irene fell in step with her. "What do you know in terms of the medical field?"

"Enough to crudely stitch a wound, which nicks cause the most damage… normal levels of functioning for the body." Annika had her hand wrapped around the strap her her bag, eyes trained on the floor in concentration. "Why?"

Irene hummed, glancing at her sideways. She'd had an idea on the easiest and quickest way for Annika to be inserted in their new mark's life. They didn't have time for the woman to brush up on her medical jargon and fake her way through med school. "We'll settle for observation right now." There was always Mitch, but this one would be about Annika proving she could be effective despite everything else.

Before Annika could respond, the head of the team peeled off, and headed in the opposite direction. The young woman was left to exit the building on her own.

The ride back to Hurley's home and training facility was a good trek. And while she welcomed the time to reflect, she tried her hardest to not over analyze every detail she remembered about Ghost and the way Rome had disintegrated right in her hands. Looking up at him and seeing nothing but contempt right before he slapped her and attempted to kill both she and Mitch.

Had she been alone, fighting three men on her own, she wouldn't have made it out. And ghost would have gotten the physicist. She remembered the injury Mitch sustained, the wound on his rib that he tried to fix without help. He was reluctant to receive her aid but he freely asked her if she was fine. They'd come to an understanding — facing imminent death and staving it off together — and it felt like even if he didn't spill his guts to her, he gave a shit if she was going to be okay when it was all over.

A slip of the tongue was all it took to ruin it.

 _Stupid. Stupid._ She repeats it like a mantra. _You know the right way to carry yourself._

The way his fist had angrily banged into the wall over her head, the fury in his eyes still haunted her. She'd seen horrors, experienced her own pain and _that's_ what was drilled into her head.

She knew she couldn't have told him anything — letting him try and pull it out of her was all that could have happened. Sitting in the back of a car, handcuffed, and more of the same at the safehouse, all she could do was stare. She kept her mouth shut, and while Stan questioned her, the blurred image of Mitch's face as he held her down in the tub played on a loop in her head. She would have died trying to do good in a world of evil and all she would have been known for, to both men, would've been betrayal.

Betrayal. That's what the look was. She could feel it in the way Mitch had regarded her when they saw one another again. In the short time they'd been acquainted, they'd been reliant on the unity of the team. She revealed to be an agent with what had seemed to be ulterior and shady motives. He trusted her as much as he could allow himself to feel for another person with the trauma he'd experienced. But as someone as goal oriented as Mitch was, he couldn't lose the game Ghost had started. He'd needed her and used her in the same way she had apparently used them. It was a fair trade, she supposed. She could only think of it that way now.

Mitch and Stan were huddled around an ancient looking laptop on the dining room table when she walked in— her bag buckled from her shoulder, hitting perfectly and slouching to the side of the wooden chair. The newest agent sat across from them, folded her hands on the placemat and waited.

"No one's been asking about what happened..." Mitch was the first to fill her in, eyes connecting with hers over top the laptop. He held his hand to his mouth pensively, both he and Stan waiting for any sort of change. Who knew his history of trolling the darknet for jihadists would be a reliable skill in the long run?

Annika could see how it would be difficult to find anything that was pertinent to the events they were interested in. "It's been a couple of months and they move on quickly." She offered, absently biting the inside of her cheek. There was always something abhorrent being planned, but it wasn't hard to imagine why there would be radio silence. "If Ghost did have a larger following than we'd seen, a scorned woman set out to repay us for killing him before his goal could be accomplished, could already be making moves."

There was something about facing the wrath of someone who'd suffered a loss that made them more dangerous. Mitch was proof of that. And the lengths someone could go to for revenge and retribution. People… naturally emotional creatures. A commonality, reliable in that it's true, always. And sometimes that emotion cultivated a deadly response. They knew just what could happen if they didn't get ahead of that.

"She wouldn't be shocked or upset by the stretch in communication." Stan commented, pulling back from his position behind his protege. He plopped into the seat at the head of the table. "But if she's working with him… she's waiting." Patience played a big part in how a situation like that unfolded.

They went over the plan for the first day. The younger agents would show their faces, observe but keep contact with Michelle nonexistent. If she was innocent, she probably wouldn't notice them — at least, in theory — and they'd get a feel for what they were up against. There was the very real possibility that she didn't know Ronnie was dead. The CIA had made it impossible for anyone to hear about the news. Michelle would have to know someone with a first or second hand account of what happened and that was nearly one hundred percent unlikely. But considering how apparent it was that they could be lacking all the information, nothing was being ruled out.

Stan's phone began to ring, taking him out of the room without preamble. It was late in the day anyway and there wasn't much they could do in prep for the following day. It didn't take anything more than a few coms and an extraction route for those types of situations. The bases were covered.

"This feels familiar." Sitting in forced silence was never comfortable. Annika fiddled with the hem of her shirt, trying not to focus on the action.

Mitch let out a breath, tension coloring his expression. He closed his laptop and folded his arms on the table and examined the redness of his knuckles, the constant use of his hands didn't allow much healing. "It's one big thing after the next." And he didn't mind that, it kept him occupied, but it did feel like more of the same repeatedly. The stakes never seemed to be lowered. Someone's life was always endangered, whether it be theirs or an innocent bystanders. He was nothing if not self-aware. He knew that his constant going, not dealing with the constant high-octane emotions his body was always running on kept him high strung. Time for breathing had yet to come.

She watched as he stood and made his way to look out the sliding door. "It never ends."

The greenery that surrounded and provided cover was beautiful. Katrina loved being outdoors. She didn't look outdoorsy, but she was always dragging him on her adventures… Ibiza, the trip to Spain was supposed to be one of their adventures. She didn't get to see it through. When he was alone, he had a lot of time to reflect; taking in the sights and sounds, being.

"Why do you do it?"

 _Because someone has to_ , wouldn't be the appropriate response Annika figured. Mitch didn't want to hear that. (He had a very personal reason for the state of his life, the controlled chaos raging in his soul was the direct result of his life going to hell.) Just because a job needed to be done, didn't mean she was cut out for it. But she was passionate about it, like she directly played a part in keeping the world safe. Peace was not a natural occurrence. It was earned and the everyday person might take that for granted, but there was always someone somewhere making sure they could continue to think that way.

"I'd get bored sitting behind a desk."

Mitch snorted before looking back at her. He offered a smile that settled the tension. There was no need to be morbid and dwell on the idea that the world was always endangered. He did wonder how much hurt she'd experienced, what motivated her to pick that career path. He was thrown into it when his vigilante justice had proven to be unsustainable. She chose. "You said it's a family thing. You could have chosen to be different." There's a grit to his tone, and she flashed back to their last conversation.

(And she can't remember when it was decided she was going to be a spy for the government. She'd like to think that it was entirely her choice, but the young woman wasn't sure that's the truth either.)

"Yes." She nodded once, palms smoothing the placemat. "Why does it matter?" Was she feeling hostile suddenly? Was it all that subtle?

Mitch shrugged, corners of his mouth turning downward. He looked younger than his twenty-five years. Annika noticed it, unsure why that was her first thought.

"It doesn't. Not really." He cleared his throat. And in the very second — the single beat in time she wouldn't be able to count — the conversation teetered. "I'm sorry going home didn't work out." It was like he'd thought of something pleasant only to be reminded of the tumultuous events that gave everyone such a distaste for her past connections. Her surprise at the sudden change of pace wasn't unnoticed.

The way he sounded took her breath away and sucked all the potential banter out of the room. She let out a humorless chuckle, acknowledging that he'd given her no reason to actually accept those condolences in sincerity. He'd cut all flow of the conversation. He looked at her for a long while, before he simply went back to the window. "It didn't just not work." She stood, "As you so simply put it." She glanced up at the ceiling as she turned away. Headed for the door, she thought of standing her ground. Nothing to stand on. She pulled the door shut behind her and looked down to the front of the house. As she closed her eyes, she exhaled.

Annika pressed her hands to her face, chest tightened, all she could do was breathe. Sitting on the top of the stairs, running a hand over her hair, she sat in the nothingness that surround the compound.

She supposed she shouldn't be shocked. Mitch clearly had a propensity for holding a grudge. He wasn't going to let her off the hook. And no matter the reason for being back around, her life outside of the agency was no consequence to him. They were nothing more than colleagues. She actively tried not to think of the sheer emptiness she felt in her heart when she recalled her family. It was just her, alone. Stan's dogs barking brought her out of her head. There was no leaving for the night, she'd catch the last few moments of sunlight as she'd be driving out into the valley. Groaning, she accepted that she'd be there all night or get lost in the wilderness over an annoyingly indifferent remark.

Annika stood and headed back inside. Mitch, thankfully, was nowhere in sight. She didn't know why she'd thought being around him would be easy. And it was turning out to be anything but.

* * *

"Check… 1...2…"

"It's not open mic night…"Stan groaned, "We can hear you Davies." He rolled his eyes at the young analytic loan to the team.

"Right."

Mitch did his best to pull the end of his brow back down, but the inquiry in his expression had already been made. He huffed and rolled his eyes as he stuck the earbud into his ear, the mic on the inside of his collar. "I think we're good."

"Annika…"

The woman followed suit, taking the small device as she gave a pleasant smile. "Thank you."

"Okay…" Stan said, "Pull over. I'm getting out here."

Mitch pulled the car over, slowing to a stop around a secluded corner. "Kennedy cleared this?" He asked as he looked into the backseat.

"I only let her think she's in charge." He made sure he was all set, silencing the phone he was ordered to keep on himself.

Mitch snorted and looked away as Stan stepped out of the black car. The head of the quad disappeared down the sidewalk, toward a strip of apartment buildings lined the street.

He pulled around the corner of their destination, Annika getting out and walking inside while he parked. He waited, watching her go inside.

Annika slipped into a cafe, eyes trained on the blond woman from the case file. Joining the line a few people behind her, Annika's eyes caught sight of the bag in her arms. The woman passed it to the barista behind the counter with a fond smile, an apparent gift if the name brand logo was anything to go by. They said their hellos before she went to sit down.

She watched as Michelle chose a table in the corner, drink in hand. "Friend at the counter." The iranian noted for Rapp and Hurley. She smiled smoothly as she ordered a small latte. She moved over to the waiting line.

Annika took the time to assess the crowd. It was filled with fairly young people, anyone middle aged would stick out like a sore thumb. But no one was rowdy either. They all seemed to fit the higher educated bracket — which made sense, considering it was a college town and the university was merely a couple blocks away. She took her drink when the order was called and sat in the booth in line with Michelle's.

Mitch entered with a crowd of women ahead of him, walking past her without so much as a glance. He stood along the wall, his position keeping Michelle in between them. The exits covered, they'd see anyone come in or leave.

"You couldn't look any more conspicuous." Annika said as she sipped from the coffee she ordered. Mitch rolled his eyes and surveyed the cafe for a place to sit. He sat across from a girl studying for something. She gave him a weary glance but noted his looks. Not even mildly intrigued, she had her nose back in her books a second later.

For her part, Michelle Howard was unassuming, which would only benefit her if she was involved in sinister plots. She'd brought a book, and she drank her coffee and checked her phone intermittently. It was clear she was waiting for someone. A Sunday seemed like a normal day to meet up for a more intimate gathering in a small cafe. The barista seemed forgotten, and went about her shift with ease. Annika ruled out the possibility of any other involvement.

" _This the place is a mess. Someone did a real number on it_." Hurley's voice came in through the com. It occurred to the three of them that she had to be supplementing a certain income to afford a place on her own in such a wealthy community. It did provide its covers while not being too far from any recognizable building that could be made a target. There were more than a few places to attack, all of which had security measures in place, but nevertheless… what would it say about the person or group who would dare it? Hurley had slinked into her apartment building down the street only to find three men coming out of her apartment. A shoot out ensued — which would be hell to explain — not something Stan had expected. The three culprits seemed fairly experienced but his presence was unexpected and while he'd gained the upper hand, he quickly lost it. He managed to incapacitate two of the three men, one of them making it out the building.

Annika did her best to avoid any unnecessary reaction, but as she looked up, she noticed that Michelle's phone lit up. The med student glanced at a text and then her expression flattened. She looked around the cafe and then spotted Annika. Her eyes narrowed a fraction before she looked away.

Annika swore under her breath as she stood and slowly headed for the exit tossing her cup in the garbage on the way out.

" _What are you doing?"_ Came Mitch's frantic muttering.

"She made me." Annika replied, walking up the sidewalk past the windows. Mitch hunched and looked around, seeing that Michelle was eying the exit. The door chimed and she chose that small window to step into the crowd forming as a line started at the register.

Mitch followed after her, narrowly missing a car as he ran across the street. Annika was posted at the side of the building, halted traffic as she cut off the target's movement. They had her surrounded on the sidewalk a second later, her back to an alleyway.

Michelle straightened her posture, hands raised, phone still in hand. Mitch saw the time ticking away on her screen. A smirk grew on her face merely seconds before an explosion erupted and the cafe across the street went up in flames.

* * *

" _What the hell happened?!_ " Irene asked heatedly, hunched over desk.

"We didn't anticipate the bomb." Annika responded. She knew she should've. The package that Michelle had passed off couldn't have been more suspicious. It was a rookie mistake on her part, letting it go so easily.

" _And why not?"_

"We didn't exactly know what we were walking into." Mitch interceded. He had his arms folded, legs outstretched as he sat on the couch. His lax posture did little to hide that he was angrily tensed. The file hadn't been definitive. They didn't know the targets standing; innocent woman caught in the aftermath of a deadly situation, or the culprit. It was obvious then. He wasn't happy with himself, the last sequence of events seemed to go by so quickly.

"She had her own apartment trashed." Stan went on.

" _She's disappearing_." Irene sighed, holding the phone in her palm as she pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

"You didn't see her face." Annika countered, "This is just the beginning." She sat at the back of the couch and Mitch looked over his shoulder. He didn't move like she'd expected.

" _You were supposed to stop that_!"

"Your file was some grainy pictures and a page of information." Mitch chuckled darkly. He did little to hide that he was ticked. He stood and left the room. Annika watched the direction he'd gone long after he was no longer in sight.

" _I'm sti-"_

"He's gone." Stan cut her off. It was clear that he was amused by Mitch's guts. "The kid's right though. We sent them in blind."

" _Their training is all about expect the unexpected._ "

Stan exhaled, nodding at Annika, telling her to leave. When she was gone, the head of the team sat at his table around the phone. "We'll catch her."

" _She blew up a cafe chockful of her university mates. What's she saying?"_


End file.
